


Behind the Trigger

by ZapWBolt



Category: Fall Out Boy, The Youngblood Chronicles (Music Video)
Genre: Death happens, Friendship goals, Gen, Miss Missing You, Save Rock and Roll, accidental murder, aw they killed eachother, best friends kill eachother, it's platonic we swear, patrick is psycho, pete cries
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-03
Updated: 2018-08-03
Packaged: 2019-06-21 00:14:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15545370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZapWBolt/pseuds/ZapWBolt
Summary: "Before it gets better, the darkness gets bigger and the person that you'd take a bullet for is behind the trigger~"We all know how this ends. My own re-write of the video for Miss Missing You without all that... other stuff that happened.





	Behind the Trigger

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first thing I've posted here so... if it's shit I apologize.  
> Also there's death, but I think we all saw that coming. Idk if I should use that warning?  
> whatever it's fine
> 
> However, I finally have a use for my very limited html ability! Hooray!

Pete found himself in broad daylight. The sun beat down on the already heat-dried grass, and the wind carried the sand into tiny whirlwinds. He gripped the suitcase tightly. He couldn’t let Patrick get to it. He had to save it.  
  
Pete dug his weapon’s blade into the soft ground, standing to breathe for a moment. He was completely covered in dirt and dried blood, which he wasn’t sure was entirely his. He couldn’t feel any of his injuries anymore, as he’d been running for miles upon miles. Everything was just… _numb_. He hoped Patrick had lost his scent by now.  
  
As if to answer his burning question, a rustle in the grass caused Pete to tense. He’d allowed himself to relax for too long. He slowly turned his head to see someone emerging from the weeds.  
  
It was Patrick.  
  
He too was caked in grime, most of it old, sticky blood. Patrick’s piercing yellow eyes focused on Pete. His pupils contracted, and his lips curled into a snarl. Yet, he didn’t advance.  
  
Pete looked into Patrick’s face, searching for any sign that his friend was still there. It was hard to recognize Patrick. He’d become a monster, but Pete still knew some essence of Patrick was left. He just prayed that he could find it in time to save them both.  
  
“Patrick,” he murmured, voice cracking. “What have you done? What have _they_ done to you?”  
  
Patrick growled again. It was a deep sound, laced with unbridled fury. He blinked, then let his eyes focus back on Pete.  
  
Without hesitation, he charged.  
  
Pete scrambled, gripping his blade and taking off. He leapt over the dunes, clutching the suitcase to his chest. He could hear Patrick’s angry breathing close behind, and it only made Pete want to run faster. He hated it, hated himself for being afraid of Patrick, but he’d seen what Patrick had done to Joe. Oh _God_ , Joe… And Andy… There’d been no time to mourn them. Pete felt a sudden surge of energy. He was the only sane one left. He had to save himself, save the briefcase, save rock and roll.  
  
Pete’s breathing fell into rhythm with the beats of his feet on the earth. He could run for longer, much longer. But he had a feeling Patrick could too. He wanted to scream. To grab Patrick and hold him. To pretend that all of this was just a horrific nightmare. But he couldn’t. He had to keep running.  
  
Suddenly, Pete lost his footing. His shoe was snared by a rogue weed, and he fell. Tumbling down the hill, Pete could see Patrick leaping down after him. In less than a second, Patrick was on top of him, growling and snarling furiously. Patrick used his remaining hand to pin Pete down, reaching for the briefcase with his hook.  
  
Pete used his free hand to grab Patrick’s wrist and push him away as he was leaning over Pete. Patrick howled in anger as he was thrown onto the ground next to Pete. With a quick motion, Pete scooped up the suitcase and his weapon and continued running. He could hear Patrick pounding after him.  
  
Pete ran into what appeared to be some sort of trailer park. Dozens of old, rusty cars were parked next to each other in a row. It was like a car graveyard. Pete leapt onto one of the vehicles and used it as a launchpad to get to the other side of the line. He heard Patrick close behind as he too jumped onto a car.  
  
Pete continued running. He wouldn’t stop until he knew Patrick was miles behind. He dove around a broken down trailer, nearly spilling over into the dust. Luckily, he managed to keep his balance as he pulled another right angle around a bush. Hopefully that’d throw his pursuer off. He heard an enraged shriek a few moments later and he knew his quick maneuvers hadn’t done anything.  
  
Pete sprinted into a small space between a few trailers, but found he’d hit a dead end. _Shit shit shit_. His eyes darted frantically around, desperately trying to find a means to escape.  
  
There was a loud thump from somewhere behind him, and Pete slowly turned around. Patrick was standing there, breathing heavily like a maniac, eyes glowing with satisfaction. He raised his hook and let out a defeating roar.  
  
Pete knew there was nothing he could do now but beg. Beg on his hands and knees that a piece of Patrick was still in there somewhere.  
  
“Patrick,” he breathed, a slight whimper finding its way into his voice. “Patrick, please. _Please_.”  
  
Patrick grew quiet, tilting his head slightly as if he was understanding.  
  
“Patrick, I’m _so_ sorry,” Pete whispered, choking back a sob. “You didn’t deserve this. None of us did. They made you a… a _monster_.”  
  
Patrick opened his mouth slowly as if he was about to speak, but all that came out was a hoarse, feral growl. It ripped its way from his throat, and it was probably the most terrifying sound Pete had ever heard.  
  
In the time Pete had blinked, Patrick was upon him once more. Pete shouted in surprise. His weapon had been knocked from his hand and it was now lying a few inches to his right. They wrestled for a moment, Pete trying to get himself out from under Patrick. Patrick’s razor sharp hook was drawing nearer and nearer to Pete’s neck. The hook that had killed Joe…  
  
Pete extended his right hand, grasping for his weapon. He was just barely far away enough not to be able to reach it. He bit back a cry of pain as Patrick’s hook grazed his chest while Patrick reached for the briefcase. In the moment that Patrick was distracted, Pete managed to curl his fingers around the handle of his blade. In a rush of strength, he hurled himself off the ground, taking Patrick with him. The briefcase flew through the air and Pete stood in front of where it had landed protectively. He twirled his blade as a warning to Patrick. It was not heeded. Patrick charged directly at him.  
  
It all happened in slow motion. Patrick rushed forwards, snarling ferociously. Before Pete could so much as scream, or move away, his blade was being plunged straight into Patrick’s stomach. Patrick hissed and shrieked in pain, doubling back. Pete opened his mouth to yell. His ears were ringing and his head was pounding. He couldn’t hear his own screams of anguish as he watched his friend clutch his wounded abdomen.  
  
“Patrick, oh God, what have I done?” Pete shouted, burning hot tears cascading down his face.  
  
In a last burst of strength, Patrick surged at Pete, hook extended. Pete just barely felt a prick as the hook penetrated his chest and dug deep inside of him. Patrick tore his hook free, a trail of bright crimson blood following behind it.  
  
Pete fell to his knees, weeping. He could just barely feel the blood spilling from his chest, but there was no pain to accompany it. Blood and tears mixed together as he fell onto his back into the sand. Patrick stood over him, his yellow eyes boring into Pete. Patrick seemed to know he was mortally wounded, and didn’t make any more movements.  
  
Pete’s world was beginning to blur. He blinked rapidly in an attempt to clear his vision, but it was useless. Pete knew he was fading away.  
  
With his last remaining strength, he managed to choke out, “Patrick, I’m so, _so_ sorry. I… _I love you_.”  
  
Then, slowly, his world grew dimmer and dimmer, until he was pulled into the blackness.

**Author's Note:**

> This was not supposed to sound shippy. I just wanted to write this cause I was feeling sad and bored and writing about best friends murdering each other makes me not sad and not bored. That's probably not normal.


End file.
